


Six Feet Under

by Kedreeva



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, earthquake, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," Stiles said softly, just to get his attention. The soft gleam from Derek's eyes reappeared. "Do you have any regrets?"<br/>"About?" Derek asked tiredly. He closed his eyes again.<br/>"Dying," Stiles said, exasperated.<br/>"Do you?" Derek echoed. He almost sounded interested.<br/>"Yeah," he rasped. "I should have told you."<br/>-----<br/>Wherein Stiles and Derek are trapped together in a cave-in after an earthquake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Feet Under

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finduilas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/gifts).



> This was commissioned by [Ine](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/) (go check out her [artwork](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/tagged/FIN'S%20ART)!) for the Sterek Campaign's Wolf Pack Charity Project fanfiction auctions. Thanks for helping protect the wolves!

* * *

 

 

            "You’re bleeding." The words were soft, rasping over the crumpled tunnel walls.

            "I’m fine," Stiles groaned, pressing his hand to his temple. The world listed severely to the right and he closed his eyes. It wasn’t like he could see anything but the low glow of Derek’s eyes anyway. "We need to get out."

            He heard Derek shifting, the quick gasp of breath through his nose. “There is no _out_ ,” he said. It sounded like resignation and all of Stiles' red flags rose.

            Stiles managed to scoot into an upright position. “What do you mean _there’s no out?_ ”

            "I mean, the quake collapsed parts of the tunnel," Derek replied. Stiles couldn’t see him, but he could see the faint reflection from his eyes against the far wall- the far wall which should have been an open tunnel. Both walls should have been open tunnels and were instead solid piles of rocks and dirt. "We're a little closed in right now."

            "You said we would be fine!" Stiles breathed out, his stomach twisting up. "You said-"

            "I know what I said," Derek cut him off. "I'm working on it."

            Stiles could hear Derek scrabble claws down the dirt and the cascade of pebbles that followed. They could try to dig their way out, but there was no telling how far the collapse of the tunnels went. There was the obvious solution of _up_ , but Derek had pointed out that neither of them could actually touch the ceiling, much less dig another ten feet vertically. Stiles was willing to try anyway, until Derek added that doing so could collapse what little space they still had.

            "We're going to die down here," Stiles said, leaning back against the wall again.

            "We're not going to die down here, Stiles," Derek said calmly. There was the scrabbling again, and more tiny landslides. "If the others don't hear from us, they'll come looking."

            "They don’t know where we are," Stiles said. "They don’t even know where to start looking."

            Derek didn’t answer right away, and Stiles supposed it was because he already knew. They hadn’t told anyone where they were going, their phones were still upstairs, and they would quickly run out of air in the enclosed space. Things were _not_ looking good.

            "We're definitely going to die," he repeated. He didn't need to have light to know Derek rolled his eyes, because Derek always rolled his eyes when Stiles snarked at him. "This is the worst. We live on top of a supernatural bat signal. Our lives consist of- of fighting _werewolves_ and _kanimas_ and _kitsunes_ and doing _druidic magic_ and _witchcraft_ , and we don't get to die from any of it."

            The tiny pinpricks of light from Derek's eyes vanished and Stiles heard him rub at his face. "If you don't be quiet and let me think, it’s not going to be the cave-in that kills you, either,” he groaned. “It’s going to be me.”

            Stiles just sighed. It was such an empty threat, these days. Derek wasn't going to kill him any more than Stiles would kill Derek, given the chance, and they both knew it. If nothing else, it would be a poor return on the investments they'd made on saving one another's lives so often.

            Still, Stiles let it drop for a little while. His head was pounding and arguing was making it worse. On the other side of the tunnel, he could hear Derek scratching and tapping at the collapsed tunnel wall. He couldn’t dig without being sure it wouldn't collapse the clear area, but that didn't stop him from looking for weak spots, someplace they could punch through and get out. It didn't seem likely.

            It wasn't until the air began to grow stuffy and thin that Derek finally surrendered. He sank to the ground, one knee pulled up to his chest, his head lolling back against the stone wall. The light from his eyes winked out, and blackness engulfed them. Stiles could still hear him breathing, a little more labored than normal.

            "Hey," Stiles said softly, just to get his attention. The soft gleam from Derek's eyes reappeared. "Do you have any regrets?"

            "About?" Derek asked tiredly. He closed his eyes again.

            "Dying," Stiles said, exasperated.

            "Do you?" Derek echoed. He almost sounded interested.

            For a moment, Stiles was quiet, not sure that, even walking the line between life and death, he could say what he wanted. But his lungs were burning and his head still hurt and Derek had given up on locating a way out. There was a good chance they'd never get to a better moment.

            "Yeah," he rasped. "I should have told you."

            "Told me?" Derek lifted his head, looking over at him. Despite the darkness, Stiles knew the face he was making, brows drawn and mouth pursed into a little frown.

            Stiles wasn't sure if the noise he made was a chuckle or a sob, though he suspected it was some of both. He rubbed one hand over his face, through the tacky, drying blood, and let his head fall back. "That I like you, Derek. A lot. I kinda hoped that- that I'd get a chance to tell you without you... you know, ripping my throat out."

            "With my teeth?" Derek breathed out. Stiles could hear the half-fond smile.

            "Something like that," Stiles agreed, head spinning badly enough he had to close his eyes. He wondered how much longer he could stay conscious if even the werewolf was having a hard time breathing. "I always thought... there'd be time."

            Derek let out a small snort. "Do you still want to know what I regret?"

            Stiles felt a new kind of blackness swirling in around the edges. His body felt heavy, like he was slowly turning to stone. He could hear a faint ringing, or maybe a grinding, or humming, and he thought maybe he was starting to hallucinate. "Yeah," he said, because it wouldn't matter soon, so he might as well.

            "I regret this," Derek said, sounding as exhausted as Stiles felt. "I regret being trapped in here with you. That sitting here in the dark asphyxiating next to you is going to be the last thing I do."

            A sharp feeling of loss lanced through Stiles' chest at the words, embarrassment flushing hot under his skin. He managed to nod, not knowing if Derek could even see it. That was fair enough, he thought, because he couldn't seem to get enough breath to say anything in response.

            Of course Derek wouldn't want to spend his dying moments with him.

            Of course not.

            Maybe a part of Stiles had known that, and that's why he'd never said anything.

            "Sorry," he choked out, a moment before the roaring in his ears escalated and the world went black.

 

* * *

 

            Stiles flailed awake, shoving at the rocks and stones that had buried him alive. His throat and lungs felt like they were on fire, and he started coughing and gagging on the tube down his throat. As he scrabbled at it, the world far too bright all around him, he heard a rapid, panicked beeping. The material covering him was too soft to be rocks, and that gave Stiles pause just as two people he didn't recognize rushed into the room.

            "You're okay!" one of them was saying loudly, a firm hand on his shoulder.

            He let his head fall back onto the pillow, staring at he nurses with wide eyes as he gasped in breath after burning breath. "What?"

            Both nurses fell into checking him as well as the machines, and the one on his other side continued quietly. "You're okay, Mr. Stilinski. You're at Beacon Hills hospital. Your father brought you in last night."

            "My... dad...?" Stiles said slowly, confused.

            The guy gave him an odd look. "Son, what do you remember?"

            Stiles rolled his eyes. "There was an earthquake, and we ran into the tunnels, and then we were trapped and-"

            "We?" the nurse asked, giving his companion a look that only spoke of fear to Stiles. "Was there someone else stuck in that cave-in with you?"

            Stiles' stomach sank. "Yes!" he cried. Of course there was! How had they not found Derek right next to him? Had they just left him in the rubble? "Derek was there!"

            There was a moment where Stiles struggled against them as they tried to keep him on the bed, and then there was another person at the door and this time Stiles _did_ recognize him.

            "Dad!" he called out, heart twisting up. It didn't matter if Derek didn't like him back, or even if Derek hated him; he couldn't just be _dead_ or _gone._ "Dad, where's Derek? He was in there with me! He was in the tunnel!"

            "Stiles, Stiles," his dad said as he crossed the small room, hands held up to stop him. "Derek's fine. He volunteered to go get food downstairs for us."

            "He's fine..." Stiles repeated slowly, letting the realization sink in. He managed to take a few deep breaths and felt a little less dizzy. "He's here?"

            "Downstairs," his dad said, nodding at the nurses when they murmured about all of Stiles' machines checking out okay. They disappeared, leaving Stiles alone with the sheriff. "He'll be back in a few minutes. How're you feeling, kiddo?"

            Stiles relaxed. He was alive. Derek was alive. "Uh, a little like I was hit by a freight train," he admitted. He could feel the bandage around his head now that he wasn't panicking. He looked down at the breathing tube sitting in his lap. "I thought I was going to die."

            "You... almost did," his father started.

            Just then there was a commotion outside the room and both of them turned to watch as Derek appeared in the entrance, bags of food in his hands. "Stiles."

            "Derek," Stiles breathed, chest tight, skin prickling as he remembered their last conversation. He dragged his gaze away from Derek and back to his father. "How did we-" He motioned to all around them, to the hospital.

            "Scott found you," his dad explained. "We managed to get a line down to you for air, and dug in laterally. You are really lucky your friends are... _gifted_ ," he said, glancing around. He couldn't say _werewolves_ in a hospital full of humans.

            "Where's Scott?" Stiles asked immediately. He couldn't ask why Derek was there instead of Scott.

            "With his mom," his dad said quickly. "She was injured in the quake- lie down, she's fine. I'll go get him if you want, now that you're awake."

            "Please," Stiles said, a moment before he realized that if his father left, he would be alone with Derek. But his father was already patting him on the leg and disappearing out the door.

            Slowly, Derek set the bags of food on the chair by the door, watching Stiles. "I was afraid you wouldn't wake up," he murmured.

            Stiles rolled his eyes. "Like you care," he muttered.

            Derek's brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

            A derisive noise roughed the back of Stiles' throat, which he instantly regretted making as pain flared up. "You seemed pretty keen on getting rid of me in the tunnel. You basically said you hated me and-"

            "Stiles," Derek interrupted, a note of offended surprise in his voice. "What are you talking about?"

            Stiles puffed out a breath and put his head back again, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel the flush of his skin, though this time it was more from anger than embarrassment. "I said I liked you, and you said you regretted being around me."

            Derek rolled his eyes, his body joining in the motion. "I said I regretted dying with you," he said slowly. "As in, your idea of a first date sucked, and I think there are better things we could have done together than die."

            Blinking, Stiles snapped his gaze down to Derek, eyes wide. "What?" he said, bringing up a hand to press to the wound on his head, afraid that he was still hearing things.

            Moving into the room, Derek approached Stiles' bed, hand trailing over the edge as he went from Stiles' feet to his shoulder. "Is that- is that what you thought I'd said?" he asked softly, dragging one of the chairs over so he could sit next to the bed. "That I hated _you_?"

            "Well- but that's-" He could feel himself breathing faster, the panic returning, his head spinning light. The heart monitor beside him started beeping, and then Derek was reaching out to touch his shoulder. "You said-"

            "Stiles." Derek stopped him with a gentle squeeze. "Forget it. Whatever I said, forget it. I like you. I like you too."

            Stiles swallowed, and met his eyes. "Really?" he whispered, barely daring to believe the words.

            When Derek nodded, eyes never leaving his, Stiles let out a breathy laugh and reached up, pressing his hand over Derek's. Leaning in, Derek pressed his nose to the back of Stiles' hand, looking at him from beneath his lashes, and just smiled.

 


End file.
